I’d like to discuss the manners of crow,
That dine on the roads where cars come and go.
They peck at road kill without forks or knives,
But ‘caw, caw’ to their friends, saving their lives.
They don’t use napkins, to wipe off their beaks,
Yet they always appear dapper, and sleek.
Do they get embarrassed eating that yuck?
If so, or no, I can improve their luck.
Next time I pass by I won’t hesitate
To place their fresh meat on a dinner plate.
Or wouldn’t they think I’m the grand pooh-bah
By offering them a side of coleslaw?
Lastly, I’ll grill up their newly struck treat,
And locate the whole shebang off the street.
It’s not like I’m going out of my way,
Since I drive by their feast ten times a day.
Also, I think that they’re awfully kind
Staying with us for the long winter grind.
Or is it a guise, since their next supper
Could be us frozen in the road’s gutter?
So that’s why they wear such a nice black coat;
They’re dressed to stuff us dead stiffs down their throat.
I must admit, I thought initially,
That they might have needed our sympathy.
But crow manners, hmm, can there be a thing?
Well, like I first said, it had a nice ring.
Though I may be wrong, it’s happened before,
Like when I thought storks ran the baby floor!